


Drawing Seamus

by seamusdeanforever_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-26
Updated: 2015-10-26
Packaged: 2018-04-28 07:22:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5082859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seamusdeanforever_archivist/pseuds/seamusdeanforever_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>By Kaalee</p><p>Dean wants to draw Seamus in an interesting position.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drawing Seamus

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Cora: this story was originally archived at [Seamus/Dean Forever](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Seamus/Dean_Forever), which I opened in 2002, and which was closed in 2005 when the server that hosted it was closed. To re-open the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2015. An announcement was posted to OTW media channels, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact me using the e-mail address on the [Seamus/Dean Forever archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/seamusdeanforever/profile).
> 
> ***
> 
> DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. 
> 
> Author notes: Written for the second "pick four words" challenge at deamus. This is a present for thenotoriousso4, posted tonight because of some upcoming angst. I'd started this before the challenge came about, and had already included two of the five words mentioned. If anyone can figure out the two I'd already included, I'll write you a drabble of your choice. :)   
>  ~much love and devotion to shikishi and obsessed1 for the helpful beta work.

"You want me to _what_?"

Dean swallowed. He worried that Seamus could see color on his cheeks deepening into the rosy-brown it always did when he was embarrassed, "I, uh, I just don't want to draw what everyone else does. We have to do a portrait and I wanted to do something extraordinary. My muse kicked in last night and I immediately thought of you. I figured that this would make an impression."

"To say the least."

"Yeah, but..."

"And probably ruin our friendship forever."

"No. Seamus, I've thought about this. You walk around naked all the time anyway, and I've heard you in bed sometimes..."

"Like you've never pulled yourself off in our dorm room?"

"That's what I _mean_ , we've all done it. I just want you to do it and pretend that it's late at night and that I'm not watching."

Seamus shook his head. "You're nutters. Seriously."

"I think it could be really beautiful, actually."

Seamus was not convinced.

~*~*~

Dean took to making little comments and suggestions to Seamus under his breath at random times, but Seamus just spoke louder to tell Ron his story or poked Harry and asked about his latest detention with Snape, leaving Dean trailing behind them feeling like a desperate loser.

It was the first time Seamus had actually stood his ground for longer than fifteen minutes and Dean was quite surprised by it.

He was amazed that Seamus didn't respond to the quiet digs and reminders that he threw out randomly, copying a proven Finnigan method. It was what Seamus did when he wanted something and it had always worked.

Or, at the very least, it had always gotten _Dean_ to do what Seamus wanted.

One night they almost had a blow-out about it. Dean had started by coaxing quietly, "I'll only draw you from the waist up. No one will even _know_."

"I'll know."

"But everyone already thinks that you-" and Dean knew that it was the wrong thing to say before it had left his mouth, he nearly flinched at the blazing fire behind Seamus' eyes.

"Everyone already thinks that I'm..." Seamus paled as his eyes darkened, "that I'm what, Dean? A desperate, horny Irishman? A slut? Which of Malfoy's insults crossed your mind unwillingly for that one?"

Dean finally understood the phrase, _wished for the ground to swallow him up_.

~*~*~

Resigned, Dean gave up trying to talk Seamus into anything and tried to figure out a new plan for his drawing class.

Something much less interesting.

Like, kittens or bunnies or something else equally revolting.

It was as though his muse had up and left with her return trip left unbooked.

~*~*~

On the fourth Hogsmeade trip of the year, Dean begged off - claiming that he had work he wanted to catch up on. But, really, he was just concerned about what he was going to do about Seamus. Things felt awkward and strange between them and he knew it was his fault. He didn't know what he was going to do.

He had to do something, though.

Being estranged from Seamus was driving him crazy. Dean felt Seamus' absence like a dull pain in his stomach. It made him think of his uncle who used to say that he still could feel aches in the foot that had been amputated after a fierce bit of frostbite. Only Dean thought this was probably worse, though, because he had done it himself. It was his doing, his fault that he felt the physical _ache_ of not having Seamus next to him for everything.

He resolved that he'd spend the time when everyone else was having fun thinking of ways to make amends. He'd do anything; this was becoming bad for his health.

It occurred to Dean that he probably needed to do something he didn't like, though, because he'd upset Seamus so much. Like a penance or something. Seamus was Catholic; he'd understand things like confession and penance and _guilt_ , right?

Though, he had no idea what to do. Apparently his muse's absence even barred simple problem solving tasks. _Stupid muse_ , he thought, wishing now that muses were not abstract so he could somehow kick her.

He walked into the common room - through the sticky throngs of first and second years - and made his way up toward his dorm room, stopping short when he saw Seamus sitting on his bed, curtains pushed open and _waiting_ for him.

"Seamus, you-"

"I'll do it." Seamus interrupted, "But, this is your only chance."

~*~*~

Seamus sat back on the bed, his eyes lidded and watching Dean. "Is this going to be weird?" he asked. His voice shook.

"I dunno," Dean replied honestly, opening his sketchbook with trembling hands. He worried that this was somehow a figment of his imagination and that he was going to wake up any moment in the middle of a lesson with a hard-on or something.

"Maybe if it gets weird, I'll just launch myself across the room and pounce on you." Seamus grinned.

"As though that would be something new, I've still got bruises from the last time you decided the dorm room was too quiet."

"Fine, Thomas, be that way." Seamus pouted briefly, but then pursed his lips and looked up at Dean. "I, uh... we don't have much time before everyone is coming back so... how do you want me?" He gestured vaguely downward.

Dean swallowed. "Just, uh, undo your shirt so people will know what you're..."

Seamus tugged the tails of his shirt out slowly and unbuttoned it quickly with only one hand. Pausing, he looked back at Dean, "Should I..."

Dean felt like he was caught in a sudden rain shower and he shivered. "No, just leave it on, it's more real, more _frantic_ that way."

Seamus reached down and unfastened the button and zip of his trousers with one hand, he reached in with the other and squeezed. He spread his legs a little wider.

Dean heard Seamus suck his breath in that way that sounded like he was taking a deep breath, but Dean knew that it was a practiced sound and it meant that Seamus was suddenly nervous and dis-confident and a whole slew of other non-words.

"Do you want me naked or just..." He could hear Seamus swallow.

He really didn't know how to answer. "Just, uh, do your boxers have buttons?"

"Little ones."

"Yeah, undo those and just let... uh, just let your dick peek out the top, like... yeah, like that. I won't draw it, though, I just need the perspective." Dean slid the charcoal over his paper, thinking, _This is the weirdest conversation that I've ever had_.

The sun fell over Seamus' body, creating odd lines and rounded valleys. Dean wondered how he'd never noticed the absolute _landscape_ of his best friend's body.

"You don't have to, uh, sit up if you don't want to."

"I'm okay," Seamus breathed. "Just... let me lean back."

"Go on, then."

Seamus leaned his head back against the headboard and opened his mouth in a silent _aaah_. After two slow hand movements, he caught Dean's eyes awkwardly, "I dunno if I can forget that you're sitting there, _watching_ me."

"Pretend I'm not here. Or," Dean tried to lighten his voice, "If it turns you on, pretend I'm doing it, too." _God, had he just said that?_ Seamus looked at him, alarmed.

"Because, uh, misery loves company?" Dean lied.

"Shut up, Thomas."

"Shutting up." He was such a loser. "Right, then. Let's get to it."

~*~*~

Three minutes later, Dean was ready to kick his muse for a completely different reason. How could he have come up with the "brilliant plan" of watching his best mate wank and not think of any of the, uh, unfortunate _side effects_? He shifted uncomfortably in the chair. Of all the days to wear his tightest trousers. He wondered vaguely if talking might help him refocus.

"Is it weird?" he asked in a quiet voice.

"I dunno, I'm trying not to think about..."

"Tell me what you're thinking; it might help-" _Oh god_.

"I'm thinking... I want... I'm thinking about _you_ ," Seamus panted, squeezing his eyes shut and licking his lips. "I'm thinking about that time when Filch was looking for us. You pushed me behind the statue and pressed up against me so we'd take up less space. Your dick rubbed up against me and it hit me how _close_ we were. I got so hard I could barely think. Your breath was hot on my ear and you kept whispering, _Seamus, Seamus, Seamus_ , like it was a beautiful word."

"It _is_ a beautiful word," Dean breathed.

"Only when you say it."

 _God_. He wanted to touch himself so badly.

Seamus sucked his teeth and _moaned_ as the light fell over his body: unchecked, untainted, perfect - a poem of mismatched proportions. "Dean, " he panted, "I don't know if I can keep doing this with you here, with you..."

"God, Shay, will you _please_?" the words tumbled from Dean's lips. His fingers flew over the paper; charcoal scratched an even rhythm, contrasting the irregular tempo of his ragged breath. Dean wondered idly how his fingers could work so quickly when he wasn't guiding them, when he wasn't even looking at what they were doing.

He couldn't tear his eyes away from Seamus.

Seamus had his eyes tightly shut and he kept slicking his lips with a pale pink tongue, darting out between perfectly pursed lips. Dean wondered what Seamus would do if he kissed him. He nearly tossed his sketchbook aside and tore across the room. _God_ , all he could think about was finding out if Seamus' body felt the way it looked; soft, angled, warm...

The air felt sticky, even in the chill of early spring, and muffled sounds from the common room drifted through the walls, surrounding them with the threat of real life.

Seamus looked so close now; his bare feet pressed against the edges of the mattress and the toes on his left foot curled up toward the ceiling as the others curled down to the floor. He opened his mouth to a low, harsh moan that sent vibrations through the floorboards and made Dean's fingers close so tightly around the charcoal that it snapped into shards.

Dean all but abandoned drawing. He felt voyeuristic, aroused, aflame... Dropping his sketchbook, he nearly gasped when Seamus' body tensed and his knees jerked and low sticky-white spurts hit his bare stomach.

 _God_. That was the bloody sexiest thing he'd ever seen. How was he ever going to look at Seamus the same way again? Fuck. He'd probably blown it now; Seamus would never want to be his friend again after _this_... after the way Dean acted. Not to mention the hard-on that was currently twitching in his trousers.

Dean bent down to retrieve his discarded sketchbook, looking carelessly at the picture as he lifted it to his lap.

It was probably the best sketch he'd ever done.

~*~*~

He was desperately afraid to look at Seamus, so he kept his eyes pinned to the floor.

"Dean?"

 _Oh, no_. What was Seamus going to say? He looked up to see Seamus sitting on the edge of the bed, his trousers done up, but his shirt still hanging open, casually sexy. "Yeah?"

"You okay?" Seamus asked, standing up slowly.

Dean nodded quickly. Too quickly. He stopped and nodded again slowly.

Dean trembled as Seamus walked over to him on steady feet. He had no idea how Seamus could walk after _that_. Reaching for Dean's sketchbook and charcoal, Seamus smiled as his hand brushed Dean's inner thigh. Once, twice...

Dean could hardly breathe. "Shay?" he whispered, uncertain.

Seamus pulled him roughly to his feet and thoroughly _kissed_ him; kissed him so that a slow warmth spread through Dean's body in leisurely, tender waves. Moments later, Seamus pulled away and looked at him, bedraggled, lips lush, messily _gorgeous_ , and commanded, "Get on the bed, Thomas. This time I'm going to draw _you_."

**Author's Note:**

> A.N.: ~Thank you so much for reading.


End file.
